


Waning Hope

by trufield



Series: Harry S. Truman: One Man Animal Rescue [2]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Gen, Post S2, Pre-Slash, albert isn't nice to anyone, harry is an alcoholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/trufield
Summary: Cooper is missing. Harry is relived to hear Albert will return to assist them but he finds himself beginning to wish Albert had never come back.





	Waning Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I've made the list version of the series timeline a [public doc](https://trufield.tumblr.com/post/171978474237/if-anyone-is-interested-ive-decided-to-make-the) if you're interested in that sort of thing
> 
> [27 March - 2 April 1989]

Albert Rosenfield would return to Twin Peaks to assist in locating Cooper and puzzling out any related incidents. For the first time since the pageant Harry felt relief. Small, but relief nonetheless. He didn't know Albert very well, and they didn't have the best start, but he was grounded, level-headed and in control of any situation. Harry could really do with some of that right now. He looked forward to seeing him again. 

His hopes were dashed almost instantly as Albert strode through the station, thunderous frown on his face, two silent suited men on his tail. Harry never really knew what their purpose was, Albert never needed _help_. Bodyguards? Witnesses? People to keep him in check? It was a mystery to him. 

“Where did he go?” Albert barked. “You need to tell me everything. Everything from that fucking beauty contest.” 

Harry only nodded and held onto his small fragments of optimism. It was good Albert cared so deeply and took it so seriously. He would solve it. They would find Coop together. 

“Do you want a drink?” Harry offered when they were alone in his office. 

“Skip the pleasantries. I shouldn't have to tell you this isn't another day at the office.” 

Harry sat down but Albert did not. He only glared, arms folded. Harry began to recite the events Albert wanted to know. He had gone over it enough himself, every waking moment. To Harry's surprise Albert didn't interrupt once. 

“That's it?” Albert asked after a minute of silence. “You just camped out in the fucking woods like a bunch of overgrown Boy Scouts? And _waited_? For what? For Coop to stroll out, girl in his arms, and tell you he lifted the town curse or some shit? Of all the ignorance and stupidity I've had to suffer in this hellhole, this takes the fucking cake.” 

Harry stared at him, fixing his face into stony defiance to hide how much it hurt. 

“I told you what you wanted to know. Now what're you gonna do about it?” 

“Take me to this patch of magic dirt and leave me to work.” 

Harry did as he asked. Albert did not get in Harry's car, he took his own and his associates went with him. Harry did not want to go back there. He never wanted to see the grove again. 

They parked up and Harry led them through the woodland. He stopped where he had waited that night. 

“There,” he said pointing to the circle of trees. 

Albert turned back, said something to the men, and they left. Albert made his way to the circle. Harry grabbed his arm. 

“Don't-” 

“Don't obstruct my investigation Sheriff.” 

“You shouldn't be here on your own.” 

Albert wrenched his arm free. 

“Or what? The fairies will take me away? And what would you do if something _were_ to happen? Fall asleep against that tree there? I don't need your ‘assistance’. Be a good dog and find your way home. I'm not here to keep you company.” 

Harry clenched his jaw. Albert always wanted everything his own way. He could have it. He didn't want his company. He only wanted his help. He left him. (He would still send Hawk routinely to see if he was still there). Harry returned to the station and didn't see Albert again for the rest of the day. 

That night Harry couldn't sleep. He thought about the last time Albert was in Twin Peaks. He'd been helpful and understanding. Friendly too. Harry knew Albert understood more about the situation than he did, was more aware of what an agent disappearing meant. It must have been hard for him. Cooper was his friend. Harry didn't know how long they'd known each other but it was certainly longer than Harry had known either of them. 

He could reason and excuse Albert's mood in light of recent events but it didn't make it hurt any less. He had considered Albert his friend. Albert had been happy to see him once. They had hugged. Harry sighed and rolled over. Thinking of times gone by wouldn't help now. Everything had changed. 

\-----

Things did not improve. Albert was in a darker mood than Harry had ever seen him and he lashed out at everyone. His patience was non-existent. Any playfulness that had been in his remarks before (if only to entertain himself) had gone, replaced with bitterness and frustration. It was difficult to try and retain a positive relationship with him. Harry started to snap back. 

Albert didn’t have anything nice to say to anyone. Harry’s first few encounters with Albert since his arrival had been just about manageable if Harry brushed it off but he knew repeated instances of such conversation would wear him down to breaking point. He started to avoid Albert. Now was not the time to start a fight. He didn’t want to. He wanted Albert to be able to do his job. He wanted to find Cooper. 

He couldn't avoid him forever. 

“Where have you _been_? I've wasted the past 45 minutes waiting around for you to shuffle back in. You need to sign the paperwork to get Leo Johnson’s body released to me. You might as well tell me about him too unless of course you've been at the bar all this time, then your memory isn't much good for anything.” 

“I have work to do too Albert. Life still goes on around this case. There are other problems to solve.” He'd let it slide. He wouldn't rise to it. Of course Albert had identified Harry's drinking habit. It didn't matter. 

“I don't care what you do. Just tell me what I want to know.” 

Harry remained standing too this time. He gave a blunt summary of Leo's life and nefarious connections. It didn't look like Albert needed to know the information, he had probably assumed most of it. 

“Pretty standard activity for your cesspit of a town it would seem. Abusive. Involvement with drugs. And yet still running around to do as he pleases until Earle puts a bullet in him. Fine work from the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Department as usual.” 

Harry would not. Would not fight him on this. He remained tense. 

“You can go back to your barstool after you've gone to the morgue to sign.” 

“I'm am _not_ -” 

Albert barked out a sharp, joyless laugh. 

“Not what? Not a drunk? Your powers of perception really are at rock bottom if you can't even identify that. Maybe if you admitted it you could get somewhere. You can't expect to function, expect to do this job to the level of competence it requires, if you can't see straight.” 

Harry could feel his control slipping. 

“You'd better crawl on out of here _Agent_ -” 

“I still have an invest-” 

“If you don't I'll put you in a cell for continuous verbal harassment of my staff and _obstructing_ the investigation until one of your handlers comes to collect you.” 

Albert bristled. 

“I've never been met with such incompetence and disregard for-” 

“Say another word and I'm cuffing you.” 

If Harry had thought Albert was angry the first few times they had seen each other, that was nothing compared to this. If Harry didn't know Albert was a pacifist he would expect him to lunge forward right about now to clock him on the jaw. Harry almost wished he would. Anything to give Harry a reason to lock him up and show he wouldn’t stand for this behaviour. 

“Fuck you,” Albert spat, surprisingly inarticulate, determined to have the last word before he turned on his heel and slammed the door. 

Harry exhaled a sigh that felt like the last of his energy leaving his body. He slumped down at his desk, head resting on his folded arms. His throat was dry. His hip flask was in his hand. He didn't remember opening the drawer. He drank. 

He didn't remember going home or how he got there but there was a bottle of whiskey on the counter. Had he signed the papers at the morgue? He couldn't think. Couldn't remember. His wounds still stung. He just wanted to have a dreamless sleep. He drank. 

All of his inadequacies and failures gnawed away at his insides as he was dragged down, down into murky depths. Suffocating, impenetrable blackness. Albert was right. He was incompetent. He failed. He wasn't made for this. He had never been as good as his father or as good as Frank. He wasn't as professional or as smart as these FBI agents. He could only try. Trying wasn't enough. There was nothing left to drink. Nothing to distract him from his choked, stuttered sobs. It only made him feel worse. Wallowing in his own sorrow when he was to blame. He should be trying harder. Doing more. He couldn't. He couldn't. 

\-----

He awoke the next day feeling like he had a stray bullet ricocheting around in an empty skull. Thankfully he woke early and by the time he got to the station (still slightly late) his painkillers had kicked in a little. He couldn't remember if he'd fed the chickens. He'd have to go by later to check. That made him feel guilty too. 

“Where is he?” He asked Hawk perhaps too tersely. Hawk wasn't at fault, he was nothing but helpful. 

“He came by for something and left again without a word. I prefer him when he doesn't talk.” 

Well that was something. Harry had been prepared for a tirade that would kick off with a criticism regarding Harry's timekeeping and how unprofessional it all was. Harry made the most of his time and tried to relax before they had to meet again. Albert would be occupied for most of the day with Leo's autopsy and writing his report. Perhaps he wouldn't come through here again at all after collecting his information. 

No such luck. He strode in around 5pm and glared at Lucy's arrangement of donuts. 

“What are you doing here? Running a bakery? Although I wouldn't trust any of you with even a bread knife. Perhaps this is what it is. I finally get it, my eyes have been opened. No one here is capable of doing _anything_ so you're all given nice little uniforms to make you feel special and included. No one was ever expecting real, horrific crimes to happen - no wonder you're all out of your depth. You should be grateful for people like me coming to do your jobs for you. Jobs you were never fit for in the first place. It's tragic - believing you're something you're not. I should pity you except I don't care enough to do so.” 

“Agent Rosenflower you're not helping at all.” Andy said firmly before Harry's aching brain could catch up. “I don't understand you. Sheriff Truman is the strongest, bravest, most good man and everyone here is much more helpful than you.” 

“‘Most good’, huh? I'd be surprised if you even graduated high school. How you are here is beyond me. I don't imagine you understand much of anything.” 

Andy pumped himself up and stood his ground. He might not be the sharpest tack but he had sound morals. 

“I don't like the way you talk. It's not right.” 

“Newsflash you human-raised ape, nobody _likes_ it. Playing nice isn't going to earn you Scout patches anymore. This places just sullies the name of law enforcement, whenever I'm subjected to it I'm in a perpetual state of disgust and disbelief.” He looked at Harry. “You're not even worthy of the title of Sheriff, even in a place like this. And this one,” he pointed to Andy, “needs to go back to kindergarten.” 

Harry had heard enough. Any more shouting and his head would surely split open. He was sick of it. Sick of Albert. Albert glanced at him in the millisecond before Harry's fist connected with his face. Dead center. Albert stumbled back, almost falling over, hand over his face. He suddenly looked so different - shocked and lost and vulnerable. Harry turned away. The ache began to set into his knuckles. 

“I don't want you coming back here Albert,” he murmured, quiet and dangerous. “There's nothing here.” 

Albert did not have the last word. The door closed. It wasn't slammed. Perhaps, for once, he had realised the errors of his ways. Harry sighed. Unlikely. 

“Sheriff Truman?” He could feel Andy in his personal space. He strode over to his desk. 

“I'm making a call.” 

Andy took the hint and left but when Harry sat at his desk, Hawk was still in the room. Harry put a hand to his temple. 

“Harry?” 

“I'm making a call,” he repeated flatly, trying to keep himself together. 

Hawk nodded and left Harry alone. Harry picked up the phone and dialled before he could think. 

“Sheriff Harry S. Truman, Twin Peaks, calling for Gordon Cole.” He waited. 

“SHERIFF! WHAT'S THE DIFFICULTY?” 

Harry jerked the handset away from his ear. Gordon's voice felt like a spike driven directly into his brain. It almost made him vomit. He took a moment. 

“Agent Rosenfield can no longer be here. He has done all the work he can. I can't have him upsetting my staff, especially at this time. I hope you understand.” 

“OH I UNDERSTAND. ALBERT’S MAKING A PROBLEM OF HIMSELF. NOT UNUSUAL. DON'T WORRY SHERIFF, WE WON'T MAKE EXTRA WORK FOR YOU.” 

“Thank you,” Harry murmured. “And… I'm sorry. About Agent Cooper.” 

“SO ARE WE ALL SHERIFF. SO ARE WE ALL. BUT WE’RE WORKING ON IT. DON'T YOU WORRY.” 

\-----

He didn't notice the blood until he got home. On his cuff. Dried to his knuckles. How had he not noticed? (He knew the answer. He had drained his hip flask after putting the phone down). It was undoubtedly Albert's blood. Had he hit him that hard? Had he broken his nose? Harry's hands were shaking as he washed it off. Had he ruined Albert's face? Would he be disfigured? Have a permanent imperfection to the bridge of his nose? 

The guilt made him want to vomit. He spat the bitter taste of bile from his tongue. Albert was an easy target. He would not hit back. He was only grieving - screaming and spitting so no one could see his pain, his weaknesses. Harry thought he understood that much now. Albert needed help as much as any of them but Harry could not handle him. He never could. He tried to tell himself you could only help someone who wanted your help but perhaps he'd failed Albert too. 

He awoke on the couch to a knock at the door. He did not answer - could not answer - but it opened anyway. Harry grunted and shifted to sit up. Hawk entered, slow and careful, as if Harry were an injured beast. 

“Hey there Harry,” he said softly, putting his hands under Harry's upper arms to coax him up. 

They stumbled to the bedroom and Hawk helped him out of his jacket and shoes. Harry remembered when they were younger being in similar circumstances. Hawk had always looked out for him. 

“I don't… I don't…” 

“It's alright Harry. You just need to rest.” 

“I don't wanna be that person. Violent. I don't wanna be violent. I don't… anymore. I never wanted to. I just. I can't…” 

“I know. Your conscience is too great to be a bad person Harry. You've always suffered more than whoever you've hit. Agent Rosenfield needed to be put in a position to feel his own guilt. No one is going to think less of you. He refuses to be dealt with in a civil manner.” 

“Hmn…” 

“I'll come by in the morning. Sleep well.” 

\-----

The next day Harry did not encounter Albert at all. He called up the Northern in the afternoon to learn that ‘a very loud man’ had asked for Albert late that morning. Gordon had gone to Albert’s room and returned with him. He had tape on his nose. ‘ _Looked like he was on the losing side of a bar brawl._ ’ He checked out. Neither of them spoke. They left. 

Harry was relieved he would no longer have to deal with it. Perhaps now he could try and get back to normal. He didn't know where to begin. He couldn't move on if he couldn't bear to think about it. All the pain he had witnessed, he had felt, in these past few months. All the people he had lost. All the things he couldn't understand. He was supposed to protect his community. He hadn't done enough.

He was reaching for his hip flask before he could stop himself. He couldn't blame Albert for this. This wasn't about Albert. The only thing he had done was be right. Right about him. He drank. 

**Author's Note:**

> wehh I don't like not having a happy ending but the next fic (and entire rest of the series) _is_ the happy ending


End file.
